


Vodka and Perfume

by fmpsimon



Series: Sensation [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, jeankasa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8570560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmpsimon/pseuds/fmpsimon
Summary: Mikasa and Jean have been fooling around for a while, but it's always the same: get wasted, have sex, and then she goes home.  But this time it's different.  This time, Jean doesn't want her to go.  And maybe Mikasa doesn't want to go either.





	

            When they first started dating, she was still hung up on Eren.  She had known him for over a decade, but she was the only one who didn't see that he thought of her as a sister, and not a lover.  And maybe that's why they rushed into the physical stuff.  Maybe she wanted to make up for the years of loving someone who didn't love her back—at least, not in the same way.  Jean figured he was a rebound boyfriend, and he was perfectly fine with that.  Because _he_ was the one that was licking up traces of vodka from the inside of her mouth, and not Eren.  He brushed his lips over her stomach, kissed the space between her breasts, eventually settling on a spot on her neck, just below her jaw.  That spot always made her moan.  As he tasted the sickening mix of perfume and sweat, he took satisfaction from the fact that _he_ was making her moan like this, and not Eren.  And every time it was over, and he lay, sweating and breathing heavily, she would get up, use the bathroom, and slip out.  He never said anything.  He knew these times didn't mean much to her, aside from revenge, maybe.  But tonight was different.

            He caught her hand as she started to get up.  "Don't leave."

            She furrowed her brow, pulling her hand away.  "What?  Why?"  She pulled on her shirt and turned her head slightly.  He sat up, watching her.

            “Stay,” he said.  “I don’t want you to go.”

            She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.  He knew his plea sounded pathetic, but it was the truth.  "It's better this way," she said at length.

            "What, are you worried you'll get too attached if you spend the night?" he said with a smirk, running a hand through his hair.

            She turned her body around to face him, her eyes wide.  "Yes."

            He frowned.  "Oh."  He bit his lip and he could still taste vodka.  Was it really such a bad thing if she got attached to him?  He was certainly attached to her.  "Look, we've both had a lot to drink—you shouldn't be driving."

            She slipped on her underwear, and then her pants.  "I'll get a cab."

            "You don't have the money to spend on that," he said as she turned to face him.  "Look, you can stay here.  I'll sleep on the couch."  He smiled crookedly.  "It's either that or I take you home."

            “If it’s not safe for _me_ to drive, _you_ shouldn’t either.”  She tilted her head slightly.  “How many shots did you do?”

            He shook his head, smiling ruefully.  “Just enough to give me a killer hangover tomorrow morning, but not enough to make me throw up.”  He pointed at her.  “I had less than _you_ , anyway.  Just this once, stay.  C’mon, I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe.”

            She folded her arms, a smile twitching at the corners of her lips.  "Fine.  I'll stay."

            "Okay."  He nodded, climbing out of bed and putting his back to her while he pulled some pants on.  He walked over to the dresser and pulled out an old t-shirt.  "This should work."  He held it up.  It was definitely long enough on her for a nightgown.

            She hugged the t-shirt to her chest.  "Thanks."

            With a quick nod, he grabbed a pillow.  "I'll be on the couch if you need anything."  He kissed her cheek, murmured a soft "goodnight", and left the room.  The couch was not nearly as comfortable as his bed, he realized, as he struggled to find a comfortable position.  It was always the perfect place for an afternoon nap, but now that he needed to sleep, it would not come easily.  He couldn't complain, though, not really.  She was spending the night.  She was sleeping in the other room, yes, but it was a step in the right direction.

            He didn't remember falling asleep, but now he was squinting at the clock, several hours later, wondering what had woken him up.  And then he felt her hand on his leg, and the depression of the couch as she climbed in with him.  She didn't say anything as she curled up next to him.  His arms slid around her as they settled into each other.  “It’s more comfortable in there,” he murmured into her shoulder.

            She let out a contented sigh and said sleepily, “Who said I came out here to be comfortable?  Now be quiet and go to sleep.”  She placed her hands on his forearms, hugging him closer to her, and he couldn’t wipe the goofy grin from his face.

            “Yes, ma’am.”


End file.
